Doctor Who_ The Nightmare of Black Island - Mike Tucker [67]
agony, watching in disbelief as one wall bulged outwards, collapsing in a heap into the once neat gardens.
Cynrog scattered as beams and plaster rained down among them, smashing machinery.
The Doctor darted out through the gaping hole and into the rain, ducking inside the porch and staring up at the rectory.
‘Now there’s something you don’t see every day.’ The huge Balor creature was on the roof, legs skittering on the wet tiles. The last vestiges of energy from the Cynrog generators flickered around its feet. As the energy field died, the creature seemed to bulge and change, increasing in size, towering over the house. Slashing claws tore huge lumps of masonry from the building and sent them crashing to the floor. Fire had caught hold of the old timbers and one wing of the house was now ablaze, smoke billowing into the night sky, lighting the clouds with a bright orange glow.
Cynrog technicians fled from the burning house.
The monster
reached out with huge clawed hands and swept them up into the air, stabbing at them with its barbed tail, tearing them to pieces with its pincers. Casting the shredded bodies aside, it clambered down from the shattered roof, its movements slow and menacing, its claws digging into the stone as it clicked and clattered on to the wet lawn. The Doctor started to back away. With a screech of pain and anger, the creature’s head swung down to look at him. The Doctor swallowed hard.
‘Now might be a good time to finish that little errand I sent you on, Rose,’ he muttered.
‘Yes, Lord Balor. Destroy him!’
Peyne emerged from the shattered dining room, her uniform ripped, a huge bloody gash in her scalp.
‘Destroy the enemies of Cynrog!’
The creature turned slowly towards her, teeth bared. Peyne took a step backwards.
‘My Lord, I am not your enemy! I have given you the minds of the primitives that once housed you and the final part of you is close by. Please, I beg you, control yourself. Use the primitive minds to focus. 159
Remember who you were, who you are. . . ’
‘Peyne. . . ’
The voice was low and guttural, rattling the windows. The Doctor could feel it vibrating in his gut.
‘I. . . remember you. . . Peyne. . . ’
‘My Lord!’ Peyne dropped to her knees. ‘You live!’
‘I remember your lies, your deceit. The years treating me like a child. . . ’
Peyne raised her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘Morton?’
‘Is this what I lived for, Peyne, to be your creature, your weapon? To plunder the universe, destroying and killing.’
‘My Lord, the primitive mind. . . It is stronger than I had thought. It has some control. I. . . ’
‘Another mistake, Peyne?’ The thing laughed. A horrible, bubbling cackle. ‘If this is the life you offer, so be it. If I cannot live as Nathaniel Morton the man, then I shall be Morton the Destroyer, the new god of the Cynrog. . . And you will serve me!’
Peyne clambered to her feet, eyes blazing with anger. ‘Never.’
‘As you wish.’
The Morton creature lunged forward, taking Peyne’s head off with a single bite. The body stood for a few seconds, yellow ichor fountaining from its neck, then it collapsed in a crumpled heap. The creature threw its head back and bellowed in triumph. Flexing its claws, it reared back, towering over the house, staring down at the Time Lord standing in the centre of the lawn.
‘And now for you, Doctor.’
Ali reached for the final switch. With every nodule she had opened her tiredness had started to leave her. She felt more alive than she had in months. She stretched out, grasped the ridged dial and turned it. It moved with a sharp click and the machine changed in pitch once more.
‘I’ve done it, Rose! I’ve done it!’
She wriggled out from under the machine, sonic screwdriver held proudly in her hands.
160
Her smile turned to disappointment. Rose was fast asleep.